


Can't Stop Me (From Loving You)

by cagethesongbird



Series: A(geplay) Corp [1]
Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Accidents, Age Play, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Bathing/Washing, Bed-Wetting, Caretaking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Mush, Guilt, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Post-Canon, Thumb-sucking, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 06:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18888817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cagethesongbird/pseuds/cagethesongbird
Summary: When you're with someone for long enough, some secrets are bound to come out.Elliot's 'little' secret sees the light of day. Love ensues.





	Can't Stop Me (From Loving You)

 “I can take care of you, if you’ll let me.”

Tyrell’s mouth formed a hard, determined line. Elliot buried his head in his hands, completely embarrassed. It was never supposed to happen this way.

 In fact, it was never supposed to happen at all. But certain things just seemed to get out when you share a bed with someone for long enough. If you both happened to be hackers with more than enough knowledge to hit the History button, something spilling was _sure_ to happen.

 And to think he had thought it a perfectly fine idea to start to leave his laptop unlocked for Tyrell to check an email or whatever. _I like real computers as compared to the phone,_ Tyrell had said, by means of explaining why he wanted to use Elliot’s terminal. There was no explanation to why Tyrell didn’t just buy himself one, with all the money he had. And like the naïve idiot he was, Elliot had agreed, with a shrug and a kiss pressed to Tyrell’s cheek.

 Now they were here. Elliot pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, hot and aching like he needed a nice long cry. He swallowed deeply. Not the time.

 Tyrell flumped down beside Elliot on the shitty mattress, the one lasting relic from his time before they moved in together. It had a frame now, but the box spring and mattress were the same, shot to the point it barely bounced when Tyrell sat down. Tyrell chuckled.

 “We really must replace this thing,” he said. Elliot said nothing, didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

 “Elliot,” Tyrell tried again, placing a gentle hand on Elliot’s shoulder. “It’s okay, _min kärlek.”_

Was it okay? It was a dirty, disgusting, shameful secret, akin to how he felt about his delusions, his paranoia, his weakness. It was all weakness. The animal kingdom would have eaten him alive by this point, had he not been part of the human race.

 Fuck. Maybe humans weren’t bad for everything, then?

Tyrell’s bright blue eyes were soft when Elliot peered around his fingers. By way of evidence, the laptop was open to Elliot’s search history, fragments of choppy sentences spiraling all the way down the computer screen. He’d been nervous then as he was now, his heart clapping against the inside of his chest, even to just admit his big secret into the keyboard.

 Elliot had broken federal laws, run from the cops, been to prison – all of that swept away by Tyrell’s cash, the only thing left to haunt him now was the memory – and he couldn’t look his boyfriend in the eye and say he liked to be babied.

 They called it being Little, on the forums and message boards his search history so helpfully displayed.

 “I’m sorry for snooping,” Tyrell admitted. “I was just curious. But we need to talk about this, Elliot, if it’s something that’s important to you.”

 That did it. His tone, his smile, the words that came from genuine concern and fuck, the love. Tyrell loved him enough to care about something so awful, terrible, disgusting. Elliot began to cry quietly – he was never one to burst into tears.

 “Oh!” Tyrell murmured. “Oh, _sötnos,_ oh, oh, oh…”

 Tyrell threw both arms around Elliot and pulled him close to his chest. Elliot grasped the soft material of Tyrell’s V-neck and let out quiet, choked little sobs. He curled inward, burying his face in Tyrell’s musky cologne and the sweet scent of dish soap that still clung to his skin. And underneath that, the natural smell of skin, of person-to-person contact.

 Tyrell rubbed his back in a slow, circular motion until Elliot’s tears began to ebb. He sniffled loudly and wiped his face with the edge of his hoodie sleeve, blinking back the last of his crying fit. Tyrell still held him close and tight, rocking them, and if they weren’t in the middle of… something, Elliot just might have fallen asleep.

 “I’m sorry,” Elliot muttered finally, collecting himself and sitting upright. “I shouldn’t have kept this from you. I’ve got all your baggage, and you don’t even know the half of mine.”

 Tyrell shrugged. “You shouldn’t have been forced into it, either. You take your time – it’s one of the things I love about you.”

 Elliot finally, finally smiled, a bit of teeth showing as the edge up his lip turn upward.

 “Besides,” Tyrell said. “I know a lot. Finding out new things, keeps relationships fresh.”

 “I guess,” Elliot agreed. “But still…”

 “I had a feeling,” Tyrell butted in, before Elliot could say anything self-deprecating. “But I didn’t want to mention it.”

 Elliot brow wrinkled. He looked up at Tyrell, confused. “You had a feeling about what?”

 “That you were Little,” Tyrell said simply. He laughed good-naturedly at Elliot’s flummoxed expression. “Come on, Elliot. You think, after all the weird shit I’m into in the bedroom, I haven’t heard of Littles and Bigs before?”

 Elliot shook his head, flabbergasted. He never thought what Tyrell was into was _that_ weird. Choking, BDSM, the occasional knife – he could do all of that, easy peasy. Hell, there was a mainstream movie concerning the shit that got Tyrell’s dick hard. It wasn’t even a thing.

 “And you do the cutest things, that might have told me,” Tyrell went on. “You suck your thumb while you sleep, you do the potty dance sometimes –“

 Elliot rested his head in his lap so Tyrell couldn’t see his cheeks warm. He had thought he was being discreet.

 “I caught you with wet pants a few months ago!” Tyrell said, as it dawned on him. “You just threw them in the trash, silly boy.”

  _Silly boy._ Elliot’s stomach did a flip.

 “It’s – it’s not a sex thing, though,” Elliot said meekly. He picked up his head to rest it on Tyrell’s shoulder, warming like putty when Tyrell began to play with his hair.

 “It doesn’t have to be,” Tyrell confirmed. “I meant what I said. I can take care of you, if you’ll let me.”

 “I’ll let you,” Elliot said. “I’ll let you.”

 

 Tyrell woke up to a wet bed and a crying Elliot, not long after their powwow over search histories. The crying was quiet, almost imperceptible as Elliot desperately tried to undress himself by their bureau. He was swearing, mumbling soft curses to himself as he rifled through his clothes in the dark.

 “Elliot?” Tyrell called out. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, squinting in the dim light, when he felt the still-warm wetness on Elliot’s side of the bed.

  _Oh._

 Elliot froze, rabbity terror flashing across his stricken face. He had hoped not to wake Tyrell up, because he wasn’t ready to face this by himself, let alone with someone else. He had just wet the bed, for Christ’s sake! It didn’t matter who you were, or what your significant other thought they knew about you – it was embarrassing as all hell.

 His plan was to clean up and let Tyrell sleep. How he was going to change the sheets with someone sleeping on them was a bridge he hadn’t yet crossed before Tyrell woke up.

 “Elliot?” Tyrell called again, voice sweeter and less confused. He slid out of bed, dressed only in his boxer shorts, and took a careful step towards Elliot.

 Tears slid down Elliot’s cheeks in faster succession, and he realized he was full-on sobbing. He didn’t mean for this to happen – any of it, if accuracy was at play – it just… did. He was ashamed, his whole body flushed hot. He turned towards the wall, away from Tyrell.

 Tyrell smiled sadly. He hated to see Elliot so worked up, but if that was what it took for him to be able to step in and make everything better, it’d all be worth it.

 “It’s alright,” he soothed, his tone hitting the same lift as when he talked to Flipper, their little dog that still slept soundly in the other room. Elliot noticed he sounded more Swedish when he talked softly, that brunt, Americanized sound slipping away.  

 “’S not,” Elliot cried, his hands flying to his face. The little bundle of clothes he was holding tumbled to the floor. “I’m sorry!”

  “Oh, please,” Tyrell said, his voice still low and kind. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  He took another hesitant step toward Elliot, and when he didn’t back up, Tyrell went to him and enveloped him in a big hug. Elliot wrapped his arms around the top of Tyrell’s back, Tyrell’s arms squeezed Elliot’s midsection in the most protective way.

 “Why don’t we get you in the shower?” Tyrell asked pleasantly, like nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

 Elliot wailed. Everything was wrong. He was being a burden, he was useless, he was… was…

  He was _wet!_

  He was wet, and that was enough to keep him crying, even with Tyrell’s secure weight wrapped around him. He was wet, and he wasn’t supposed to be wet, because he was a grown adult and grown adults don’t wet the bed. He was wet, and he was inconveniencing Tyrell, who was probably going to turn on his heel and leave the second Elliot let go –

 Tyrell shushed him, his crying and his thoughts, rubbing his back with an open palm. Elliot clung on tight, sobbing his eyes out.

 “What’s really going on, hm?” Tyrell asked. “I don’t think just an accident would set you off like this.”

 The word _accident_ made Elliot’s heart thud hard in his chest. Tyrell said it like Elliot had accidents all the time, which, okay, he did have them more often than he would have liked. But he had always hidden them so well from Tyrell! If he hadn’t been blubbering stupidly, he might have said something defiant.

 “I don’t… I can’t –“ Elliot tried through broken gasps. His tears slowed and he shivered, from more than just the growing-cold wetness that ran all the way down to his socks.

 “You can,” Tyrell said encouragingly. He detached himself from Elliot, who whimpered. He had a growing urge to pop his thumb in his mouth, but he refused himself the comfort. He was acting like enough of a baby as it was.

 Elliot scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his fists. He hiccupped.

 “Just breathe, Elliot,” Tyrell said, and when Elliot took a deep breath, “There’s a good boy.”

 “You wanna tell me what this is all about, my love?”

 He didn’t. Tyrell must have known what a burden he was. Saying anything would just make his weakness stick out farther, make it uglier than it already was. So, he stood there, quivering and quiet. Tyrell shook his head.

 “Okay,” he said softly. Elliot was calmer now, tears all gone, and Tyrell didn’t want to set him off again. They’d talk about, maybe when they weren’t in the middle of a crisis.

 He took Elliot by the shoulders and gently steered him towards the adjoining bathroom. Elliot whimpered again, chewing at a hangnail, but allowed Tyrell to sit him down on the toilet seat and begin to remove his wet clothes.

_Useless, useless…._

 Socks, then sweatpants, then underwear, until he was sitting in his too large t-shirt, thumb hovering at the corner of his mouth. Tyrell clucked his tongue, smiling. His boyfriend looked to all the world like an overgrown toddler.

  So cute.

 Elliot was silent but held his arms up cooperatively for Tyrell to pull off his shirt. Tyrell leaned over and the shower squeaked on, the warm water quickly turning the bathroom humid. Tyrell had stripped himself, and it occurred to Elliot for the first time he may have gotten pee on his boyfriend.

 He shut his eyes and hoped Tyrell wasn’t looking to see his face crumple in even more embarrassment. Though, of course he was, his clear blue eyes crinkling with sympathy.

 “Tired?” he asked, misunderstanding. “We’ll make this quick.”

 Tyrell stepped into the shower and held a hand out for Elliot, who grabbed it like a lifeline. He was feeling all sorts of swirling emotions; embarrassment, guilt, want. Need. He needed Tyrell right now, though he’d be hard pressed to admit it.

 They stood back to chest, Elliot leaning up against Tyrell, touching him at first only because proximity demanded it. As the warm water washed away the ammonic twang of piss, Elliot didn’t feel so bad pushing up against Tyrell some more, leaning into him rather than just on him. The water loosened up his muscles, which he hadn’t realized he’d been holding so stiffly. He sighed, a big _woosh_ of air leaving his lungs.  

 “Better?” Tyrell asked, running his fingers through Elliot’s hair – oh. That felt nice. Was that shampoo? Elliot didn’t know. He was drifting…

 Wait. He stood up a little straighter, feeling Tyrell do the same out of surprise.

 “I don’t – uh,” Elliot said, his voice cracking from disuse. Tyrell’s chest moved up and down in a quiet sprig of unreleased laughter.

 Elliot smiled shyly in spite of himself. Acting so young, then his voice breaking like a teenager’s… life was nothing if not ironic.

 “I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was older, more mature than he was feeling. He needed Tyrell to take him seriously, if only for a moment or two.

 “You don’t need to be,” Tyrell murmured. He cupped his hands under the water and poured it over Elliot’s head, washing out whatever had been in there.

 “I do. I’m burdening you, and I’m sorry for it,” Elliot said. He groaned, raked his hair out of his eyes. “If we could just… I dunno, forget about tonight…”

 “Elliot,” Tyrell said. Something about his voice made Elliot turn to face him. “You’re no burden – fuck. Don’t you know how _excited_ I was for this?”

 “Excited?” Elliot wrinkled his nose. Not the word he would use, not by a longshot.

 “Yeah, excited. To take care of you.” It was Tyrell’s turn to exhale. “You’re so pent up, stretched so thin, all the time… It hurts me, a bit. When you said you’d let me take care of you, even just for a little while, I got excited. To relieve you of some of your stress… it makes me happy, Elliot.”

 Elliot rolled this over in his mind, unbelieving.

 “I mean, we could forget this night if you really want to, but I don’t ever want to forget how good it was to clean you up, make you feel better,” Tyrell went on. “I want to do that… for however long you’ll let me.”

 “You’re not disgusted with me?” Elliot asked in a small voice.

 Tyrell smiled. “What have I done this evening that would even begin to suggest that?”

 Nothing. He had been nothing but loving and wonderful, while Elliot had freaked the fuck out.

 “Nothing, I guess,” Elliot said. His voice quivered, like he might start crying again. He was probably dehydrated from all those tears.

 “I hope not,” Tyrell said. A fine crease formed between his brows. Elliot, not being able to help himself, reached up and smoothed it out. Tyrell’s smile returned, he kissed Elliot’s fingers. “Thank you, baby,” he said.

 Tyrell reached around Elliot and turned off the shower. “You’ll never be a burden to me,” he said, tweaking a finger under Elliot’s chin to make him look him in the eyes. “Understand? Never.”

 Elliot still didn’t believe it, but he felt better knowing at the very least, Tyrell wasn’t going to run out on him tonight.

 “Okay,” he said, just a bit meekly.

 “Good,” Tyrell said, the soft smile he’d worn on and off all night reappearing on his face. It was a real smile, Elliot knew, as it went all the way up to his eyes. _My smile,_ he thought.

 Tyrell stepped out of the tub first, and carefully helped Elliot out second. Elliot wobbled, clinging to Tyrell, nearly slipping on the bare floor.

 “A trip to Ikea is in order,” Tyrell said, mostly to himself. Since moving into a whole new apartment, they just hadn’t gotten around to really furnishing it.

 If Elliot had been feeling bigger, he would have made a crack about Tyrell’s Swedish ancestry, but he could feel his eyes drooping. Tyrell saw, too.

 “C’mon,” he said, draping a towel around Elliot’s shoulders and trying to lead him back into the bedroom. Elliot whimpered, stayed rooted to his spot. He was drifting again, feeling small, but it didn’t change the fact that he had wet the bed – a bed that was going to be ruined, because of him.

 “Oh,” realization dawned on Tyrell’s face. “The bed?”

 Elliot bobbled his head up and down, his thumb still hovering inches from his mouth. He dropped his hand, feeling ashamed.

 “Well, that’s nothing, _älskling,”_ Tyrell said brightly. “I was going to clean that up anyhow.”

  Tyrell took Elliot’s hand. “Stop worrying so much,” he said. “I promised I’d take care of you. All you have to do is let me.”

 Elliot still felt unsure, but he let Tyrell take him out of the bathroom, pat him down with a towel, and help him into new underwear and a t-shirt. Elliot whined when he realized he wasn’t getting pants, as Tyrell had turned away to dress himself.

 Tyrell smirked, but didn’t say anything about it. Elliot watched him as he stripped the bed, flung the old sheets to the side, and began to pull on new ones that seemingly came out of nowhere. Every time Elliot blinked; Tyrell was somewhere else. It didn’t dawn on him that he was perhaps falling asleep, standing up.

 “Sleepy boy,” Tyrell cooed, finally done putting bedthings away. He had his arms outstretched and Elliot fell into them. He really was tired.

 Tyrell guided them backwards into bed, where Elliot curled into a little ball, his knees pulled up to his chest. Once again he found his thumb inching nearer to his mouth, but he stuffed his hands under the covers before it could find his lips.

 “Oh, sweetheart,” Tyrell said. He took Elliot’s hand from underneath the blankets and made a little fist with it, so the thumb was sticking out, and edged it into Elliot’s mouth. “You’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

 Elliot obliged, taking his thumb into his mouth and sucking it like it might disappear from his hand. Did Tyrell miss anything?

 “I know you have your doubts,” Tyrell said, his chin resting on Elliot’s head. “But you’re safe with me. It’s been a long road to get here – longest road I’ve ever been down – but we’re okay. We’re good. _You’re_ good, you’re my good boy. Not a burden, but my good, good boy.”

 He pressed a kiss into Elliot hair. Elliot’s eyes were closing, soft sucking noises coming from the thumb secured in his mouth. The bigger part of him was still very wary, but this small, trusting side of him was melting into Tyrell, drifting all the way down, falling asleep after being emotionally spent.

 “I love you,” Tyrell whispered, and around his thumb, Elliot mumbled something like ‘I love you, too.’


End file.
